


Burning Desire

by Venivincere



Series: Burning Desire [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Not Underage, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venivincere/pseuds/Venivincere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape loses more than sleep due to libidinous dreams. Humor, romance, PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest. Scenario: Cautious Snape sleeps with his wand under his pillow, with unforeseen consequences. Thank you Amanuensis for the encouraging beta!
> 
> Posted to Skyehawke on September 3, 2003 here: http://archive.skyehawke.com/story.php?no=454.

"Damn!" thought Snape, standing in front of his mirror, combing clumps of frizzled hair from his head.

"Sleep too close to the fire, dear?"

Snape growled.

"Well, you've looked worse. I suppose you'll do."

Impertinent piece of furniture. "I hear the Mirror of Erised is looking for a job..."

"Grumpy for a change, are we?"

" _Obscurius!_ "

"Well! Of all the - "

Snape marched furiously to the Great Hall for breakfast, a thin, burnt odor trailing in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Ah, Severus, sit down! Sit down!" Dumbledore glanced sideways at the singed, greasy locks. "A little problem with the floo again, dear boy?"

"Headmaster..." Hmmm. He  _was_  feeling a bit testy. Snape shut his eyes, wishing himself away. Just  _why_ , again, was there no intra-Hogwarts apparition?

"Ah, yes...well...quite." Dumbledore palmed a smirk. "I'm sure it will sort itself out soon."

Snape bit into his kipper and chewed stolidly, staring into the middle distance at absolutely no one.

~~~~~~~~~~

Double potions that morning with the seventh-year Gryffindors and Slytherins began miserably. Weasley laughed outright. Granger smirked behind her hand. Even Malfoy's trite concern could not hide his internal glee. Potter simply infuriated him. He neither smirked nor laughed, nor expressed any kind of amusement - instead, he stared, owl-eyed and barely blinking, face flushed, his mouth a round little O of concern.

A sharp, lancing pain formed behind Snape's left eye.

~~~~~~~~~~

By mid-afternoon, his hair had grown back, lanky as ever. But his head still hurt.

By evening, he was exhausted. He slipped into his gray flannel nightshirt, and slid onto his stomach under the green duvet, wand tucked carefully under his pillow in his fist. Voldemort was secretive these days; better to be safe than sorry. He was asleep within the minute.

The boy lay atop him and ground furiously into his groin, but sounds of frustration indicated he wasn't getting very far. Snape reached between them, wrapped his fingers around the boy's cock, and began jerking him. It had an immediate effect; the scar on the boy's head flushed beet red, the rest of his forehead followed, and the flush crept ever lower toward his cock and the hand pumping it. Snape could feel the young man's flesh heat up. He could feel his own flesh responding, hardening and aching. His own skin flushed, the heat on his cheeks migrating to the top of his head, arousing him, burning him with passion...burning him! Snape woke instantly, his fist still pumping his wand, the sparks shooting from it having ignited his pillow and hair, but thankfully not his wand.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Severus," said Albus at breakfast the next morning, "Perhaps we should look into the purity of your floo powder."

"Headmaster, I assure you there is nothing impure about my floo powder." Thank Merlin the man couldn't read  _minds_ , however.

"My dear boy, surely you must - "

"Headmaster, I am as well aware of the indignity of the situation as I am of the sharp pain forming behind my left eye."

"I simply want to - "

"Headmaster," Snape pointed to his left eye, "sharp pain!"

"Oh, very well then."

~~~~~~~~~~

Even the Slytherins tittered today.

Potter kept his wand in sight at all times and simply  _radiated_  concern.

Snape's left eye throbbed.

He sheathed his wand in a leather holster before sliding it under his pillow that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Snape couldn't get enough of Potter. He backed him into the wall, dropped to his knees, yanked the boy's too-large pants down to his ankles, leaned forward and sucked. Potter gurgled and bucked his hips. Snape grabbed the base of Potter's cock and stroked while he tongued around the ridge and sucked the tip. Potter's knees began to shake. His heated flesh felt so good in Snape's mouth. He sucked and stroked harder, slowing his movements when Potter got too close to the edge, speeding them up when he wasn't. The friction of his mouth and hands added to the heat. Potter's shaft positively glowed now, which only spurred Snape to more vigorous action. He speeded up, the heat increased, Potter's cock glowed like an ember, his mouth and hands began to burn with the friction - and suddenly Potter was coming in his mouth, hot, unstoppable pulses, sperm flooding him,  _blistering_  him - oh! Snape woke and yanked the wand out of his mouth, throwing it to the floor, where it spat like a firework.

Snape spat, too, bits of charred leather flying into the nightstand basin, and stomped off for burn cream and a dram of scotch.

~~~~~~~~~~

The blisters around his mouth  _were_  rather visible in the bright light that flooded the Great Hall the next morning.

Dumbledore was concerned. "My dear boy, are you  _quite_  alright?"

"Heabmafper, I wiww be jufp fime."

"Severus, you can barely talk!" said Dumbledore. "Tell me you've only run afoul of a scorching cup of tea?"

Snape glared.

"An experimental potion, then?" Dumbledore stopped twinkling and asked "It isn't Voldemort, again, is it?"

A valid concern, these days. This deserved more than a glare. "Mo, Heabmafper, ip hav mofing po bo wif Vobemop, I affure you."

"Very well, then," the twinkle resumed. "But I must insist on providing a substitute for your classes, at least for today. Please visit Poppy after breakfast, Severus."

"Bewy weww, Heabmafper."

Dumbledore turned away completely before allowing himself to grin.

~~~~~~~~~~

Enforced inaction came as an unexpected boon. The pile of unread potions journals on the floor beside Snape's reading chair slowly dwindled, while the clock on his mantle ticked into the silence. The first year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff essays flew from under his quill and into a neat little pile marked 'completed.' He finished editing his rather sharp refutation of the Hogsbein and Meyers Supposition in a short monograph to be published in  _Potions and Alchemy_  the following month. Severus sighed, content, and ate the lunch the house elves delivered. Then, wand in hand, he retrieved  _His Other Lover_  from its hiding place and curled up on the couch in front of the fire. It was the perfect opportunity for a rare bit of indulgence.

They could barely get their clothes off one another fast enough. In fact, Snape's trousers only made it to his knees, and Potter's - well, Potter had managed to get his fly open and tucked under his balls. Snape lay back on the couch and pulled Potter on top of him. He felt Potter's cock slip between his thighs, and squeezed. Potter said "Ungh!" and started thrusting madly, the bare sheen of sweat on Snape's thighs his only lubrication. It evaporated quickly in the heat Potter generated, and Snape's thighs began to warm with the friction. In fact, they became  _quite_  heated; he could smell the smoke..."

"Severus!" His name echoed...was something wrong with his hearing? He opened his eyes. Dumbledore stood over him, strangely obscured by - by steam. Steam was rising from his crotch, which, though sopping wet, had most obviously been recently smouldering. The dream...ah,  _no_  - where was his wand? Severus looked about frantically for it, and his stomach took a flop at the sight of a bewildered Harry Potter, standing a bit behind the Headmaster.

He covered his face with his hands. Oh,  _Merlin!_  He'd never live this one down.

"Your wand, Severus." Dumbledore, trying desperately to look shocked, waited until Snape looked up, then handed it over. It looked rather charred.

"Young Harry, here, has been concerned about you lately. He insisted I come down to check on you. It's rather fortunate he did, I see. Ah...um, well - nothing was  _irreparably damaged_ , I trust? Shall we send for Madame Pomfrey?"

To Snape's horror, the Headmaster bent to inspect the damage.

To his utter humiliation, so did Potter. He quickly covered himself with his hands.

"That won't be necessary." He snuck a peek, himself.

Oh, damn.

"Perhaps something to cover up with, though..."

"Oh, quite!" Dumbledore conjured a tea-towel and draped it over Snape's middle, while Potter, looking embarrassed, bent down and briefly fiddled with something on the floor. The tea-towel was a very small one. Pink, even. With spriggy bits. Blast.

"I took the liberty of testing your wand before we woke you. I'm sorry, Severus. I shall send an owl to Ollivander directly." Ah, so his wand didn't make it, then. It was bound to have happened at some point, he supposed. He cursed the need to sleep with his wand. He cursed his desire for that insufferable boy. He prayed Dumbledore would not reveal the nature of his wand's demise. "And I will be leaving young Harry with you until he arrives."

"What!" That echo, again. Apparently, the remark was loud enough to rip Potter's eyes away from the book he was reading. He looked as indignant as Snape felt.

"Headmaster, surely I will be fine here in my quarters.  _Alone._ " He expected to hear a similar retort from Potter, but he was once again engrossed in the book. In  _his_  book! "Potter, return that to me  _instantly!_ "

Potter ignored his outstretched hand. "I didn't know you liked the  _Gay Wizards in Paris_  series!"

Dratted,  _evil_  boy!

"Have you got  _Seeker Sought_? That's my favorite," he babbled, "but  _Martin's Magic Wand_  is very good, too, and - "

"Well," Dumbledore interrupted, "as you two seem to have a talking point, I'll just be sending that owl, then."

"Headmaster! - " in unison.

"Now, now. I'll have the house elves send supper for you both." He twinkled out.

The second the door shut, Snape launched himself from the couch. "Potter! Book! Now!" He held out an imperious hand.

"Uh, Professor - " Potter pointed at Snape's midsection, inconveniently defrocked of tea-towel.

Snape gave up. He stomped cursing to his bedchamber, slammed the door, swiped the burn cream from the bedside table and locked himself in the bathroom. With any luck, he would fall asleep in the tub and drown.

~~~~~~~~~~

Well, he wasn't dead yet, but he did risk re-classification as a prune. An hour and a half in the bath would do that. As relaxing as it was (especially  _after_  the application of the burn cream to his blistered thighs), the sudden thought of Potter alone in his sitting room, most likely exploring  _everywhere_  he wasn't wanted, efficiently propelled Snape out of the water and into his dressing gown. He crossed his bedchamber and opened the door to the living area.

He needn't have worried - it looked as though Potter had done nothing worse than repair the burnt area of couch, then curl up on it with  _His Other Lover_. And it was too late to be embarrassed about that, now, he supposed. Though why Potter would even  _know_  of the series, let alone  _like_  it...did that mean...could that  _possibly_  mean...?

He sat down in his reading chair, next to the couch. "Enjoying my book, Potter?"

"Yes, rather, Professor," said Potter, smiling. "Look," he continued, "I won't tell anyone about it, if that's what's worrying you. I mean, I've managed to keep my collection hidden from Ron, and we share everything!"

Snape watched him immediately redden, regretting his words. "Well, not  _everything_ ," he amended. "I mean, not - "

"Spare me the details of your sordid little affairs, Potter, and I won't feel compelled to hex you into next week."

"You wouldn't. We  _are_  on the same side, after all."

"Just try me, Mr. Potter," he picked his wand up and took aim.

Potter looked pointedly at him and raised an eyebrow. Snape looked at his charred wand. He cursed. He returned the wand to the end table, picked up  _The Journal of Alchemical Sciences, vol. MCIX, no. iv_ , and buried his nose in "The Introduction of Bittersweet into Temporary Love Potions." How bloody ironic. After a bit, he felt Potter's eyes leave him. The article began to make more sense.

Eventually..."Professor?"

"Well, what is it Potter?" Irritated.

"I was wondering - "

Snape lowered the  _Journal_  and waited. Potter  _did_  look to be in serious thought. This, however, did not require patience on Snape's part. He harrumphed, and Potter continued: "I mean, if you're having dreams - visions, or anything like that - you know I get them too. You could tell me about them."

Snape stifled the impulse to hide his head and merely answered "Never."

"I just thought - "

"Far be it from me, Mr. Potter," Snape interrupted, "to discourage you in that activity to which you are least accustomed, however, that does not give you the excuse to pry." And it does not give me the excuse to admit my desire for you, you impertinent boy. May Voldemort kill me first. It would be far better than dying of  _that_  particular embarrassment!

He was spared a response by the arrival of the house-elves with a cart containing supper and a note from Dumbledore. Snape read it and scowled.

"It seems, Mr. Potter, that Mr. Ollivander will not be available until tomorrow morning. He is in the field collecting the spring growth for curing. You are to remain here overnight. Dumbledore suggests we spend the time helping you revise for your Potions NEWT. Your books are on the bottom shelf of the cart."

Potter raised the cloth and retrieved his books, looking flushed and thoughtful.

Dinner was a silent affair.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Mr. Potter, I will not need your attention in my bedchamber!"

Several hours spent revising with the boy was more than enough time in the same room together to last him a lifetime.

"But Professor Dumbledore said - "

"Fine! Very well!"  _Anything_  to shut the boy up. " If you disturb my rest in the least, Mr. Potter, I will make your last month in this school a living hell!"

"Oh, yeah,  _that'll_  be a riot," Potter muttered.

"What?  _What_  did you say?"

"I said, 'Oh, I'll  _try_  to be quiet.'"

"See that you do. And Mr. Potter, your wand, for a moment, if you please..." He waved and muttered, and a small bed appeared on the other side of the fire from his own. He handed back the wand. "You may sleep over there."

Potter wasn't looking disappointed. He just wasn't. Was he?

Snape crawled into his own bed, surreptitiously watching Potter as he sat on the small, conjured cot. Yes, Potter  _was_  disappointed. Did that mean - could that possibly mean...? He watched as Potter aimed his wand at the cot, uttered the incantation for a cushioning charm, then smiled and sighed most contentedly as he snuggled in.

Oh.

Ungrateful, irritating,  _infuriating_  little brat!

~~~~~~~~~~

He snuggled next to Potter's fully clad body, nose to knees, and began to stroke the hardened bulge under his robes. Potter did the same for him. They weren't in a hurry, for a change. It was nice to relax into each sensation, slow moans building, each call of the other's name as clear and meaningful as each even stroke. It was driving him mad, really. Perhaps it was time for more.

"Potter," he moaned, "Harder, now! Faster. I need you...I need you..." He reached out and pulled Potter closer to him, helping him get a better grip on his own cock. Snape took a new grip, surprised to feel Potter's cock suddenly unclothed, his hard length free in his hand. Potter's cock seemed slightly thicker and less springy than usual, but just as pulsing with power as ever. Snape's pulsed too, under his robes, with each matching stroke. Potter moaned louder and louder, and he moaned himself; he could hardly remember feeling more alive during sex, more involved, more present in the moment, this very moment...Potter sped up his strokes and Snape matched him, and he was building up, approaching the edge, the heat building, and Potter was too, and then they were tipping over the edge together and coming and coming, Snape's clothed cock pulsing in Potter's grip, Potter's cock fairly sparking with orgasm, burning, singeing...

Oh shit. He threw Potter's wand away from him and jumped, screaming, three feet backward - and over the edge of his bed.

And what the  _hell_  was Potter and his wand doing there, anyway?

"Professor!"

He groaned.

"Severus! I've solved the mystery!"

"Bloody brilliant.  _Go away_. And never make free with my name again."

"Not now, I won't. And after tonight, how could you say that?" Snape looked up in time to see Potter lean over the edge of the bed, wand in hand, and murmur a spell. Snape felt himself lifted and placed gently back in the middle of his bed, far too close to Potter for comfort. He looked up to see the boy smiling tenderly down at him. Leering, even.

Snape groaned again and hid his face in his hands. He felt the bed shift and a sudden sucking at the wet spot on his robes. His cock jumped, and he screamed.

"Potter! What the  _hell_  are you doing?"

Potter stopped long enough to answer "Just cleaning up the mess I made, Professor," and immediately set to again.

Snape counted to ten. Slowly. In Bulgarian.

"Very well, then." Deep breath. " _Just what the hell were you doing making a mess of me in the first place?_ "

"That's just it, Severus. I figured it out." Snape removed his hands from his eyes and Potter grinned at him triumphantly. "You want me."

"Potter, you are correct. I do want you. I want you  _out_.  _Now_!" He pointed to the bedchamber door.

"Nonsense." Potter wasn't fazed a bit. "You do want me. Want to know how I know?"

"Pray tell..."

"You  _invited_  me." Smug. "Sort of." Satisfied. Suddenly uncertain..."Don't you remember?"

Invited?! When had he - he had just been sleeping, dreaming...oh.

This was troublesome.

 _Lucius_  had never told him he talked in his sleep.

Oh dear. How long had Dumbledore and Potter been in the room before they woke him? Ahhh, bloody hell! And Potter - the Headmaster  _still_  left Potter here, after that?

Hmmm...tacit approval? Well, maybe so. Potter was certainly of age, he was graduating in a month, and there  _was_  a war on, after all. And there was certainly no more doubt that the attraction was mutual. Still, a little damage control might be in order, just in case. If he was able. He yawned viciously.

"Mr. Potter, it is folly to pretend that anything I say in my sleep has any significance other than that of a stressed and over-tired mind forced to care about an imbecilic boy who has absolutely  _no_  sense of self-preservation!"

"Oh, you  _do_  care, then!" A genuinely radiant smile.

Well, so much for damage control. He yawned again, practically cracking his jaw in two.

Potter leaned in and kissed him gently on the nose. Snape was too tired to complain.

"Severus, you're tired. We'll take it up in the morning. Budge up and let me under the covers, will you?"

Snape was far too tired to argue out loud about it, and too tired to hold out against his natural inclination, anyway. He rolled to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers up, feeling Potter snuggle up behind.

A sudden thought jerked him wide awake again, however - "Potter."

"Mmm."

"Harry!"

"Yes, Severus?"

"Where is your wand?"

Potter chuckled. "It's on the bedside table. On  _my_  side of the bed." He paused, then whispered "Don't worry. We're safe."

Severus nodded, strangely relieved.

"You'll just have to strike sparks from  _this_  wand!" Potter wiggled against him.

"Very well," Severus smiled.

Maybe now he could unhex his mirror.

~fin~


End file.
